


You speak so loudly

by FalseConfidence



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Immortal (The Old Guard), Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseConfidence/pseuds/FalseConfidence
Summary: At the age of 18, Nicky gets into a university he has no real interest in, moves into a student house with his best friend, and meets the love of his life.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 13
Kudos: 97





	You speak so loudly

**Author's Note:**

> So I may have admittedly binged the film about 4 times, ordered all of the books and while I'm waiting for them to be delivered have written out most of this fic in a manic rush.
> 
> I'll be taking a whole lot of artistic tendencies with this fic, but I couldn't resist the idea of having the family living together in a typical student house in England so there we go. Of course everyone will still have their individual heritage and backgrounds respected and if there's any mistakes of the sort please do call me out immediately :)
> 
> Anyway, this will mostly be fluff with some frustration and minor communication at times but I just liked the idea of having it be primarily a happy, gentle and silly bit of fun where it's just people falling in love with all of the confusion that comes along with that.

University, Nile keeps telling him, is supposed to be one of the greatest times in their life.

A place where they can build self-confidence and independence, have the opportunity to foster friendships with people from different culturally rich backgrounds, all while living away from home for the first time with strangers that’ll most definitely steal his cereal.

Nicky thinks that it’s mostly a scam to get him tied into an extortionate loan that will ride on his back for the better part of his life because there’s not many careers he can envision will have salaries large enough to pay off a Bachelor of the Arts in History.

But whenever he so much as sighs Nile digs a sharp elbow into his side, they argue and after a stretched out back and forth with raised voices and much posturing, he’ll inevitably lose while Nile will brag about it for the foreseeable future.

Admittedly, as far as first impressions go, Nicky isn’t… horrified

Although his opinion is skewed a little after the supposedly three hour journey stretches out to nearly double that and seems like they’ll only get there once the traffic eases and Nile _finally_ gets them in the right lane. There’s been a perpetual drizzle for the last week and although it’s the latter end of August the temperature can best be described as tepid so she seems to think it’s best to do twenty under the whole way.

“I thought the point of driving a Golf was so that you could race about like an idiot?” He complains around fiddling with the radio which seems to require a bloody sacrifice to give them more than a few minutes without crackling static.

“Would you like to drive?”

Judging by the flex of her knuckles on the gear stick, Nicky takes it as a rhetorical and decides to keep his mouth shut.

Afterwards the drive is quiet except for the patchy signal as Radio One passes in and out and Nile hums out a tune that’s at odd with what’s playing. Perhaps he should be excited about this, his bright new chance at a future, young and full of the hedonistic pleasures Nile keeps plotting for them.

But back to first impressions.

The house they’ve rented is a five bedroom terrace with a reasonable rate worked out with the landlord which Nile, being the sole owner of the primary brain cell between them, oversaw. Nicky can’t say that he’d been bothered about his accommodations, would have probably tried one of the listed sites he’d found, although the prices on StuRent had made his eyes roll and his father laugh over his shoulder when he’d checked them out.

She’d done well, he had to admit, the trio they’re going to be housemates with are all her finds, some social group Nile joined that advertised an easy match with ‘friends for life’ actually being the site banner. Nicky thought it was stupid, still does, and when they pull off of Filton Avenue and go up one of the side streets, he’s still of mindset that it’s in the same category as online dating. You can never say who you’ll meet and the likelihood of ending up in tiny little pieces in somebodies’ cellar too high a risk for him to ever entertain it.

What Nicky can’t say he expects on his first day of freedom, after five and a half hours, three motorway rest stops and two missed junctions, is to find their new housemates waiting for them on the tiny strip of a front drive, the grassy patch out front having more akin to do with a festival pitch than a lawn.

The firsts a blonde currently hunched over the front step, a bottle of Absolut dangling from his fingertips, looking like death warmed up, the heel of his free hand pressing into his temple as his hair falls across his forehead in limp strands only a few feet away from what looks like a haphazardly constructed bit of Ikea furniture.

“You’ve found us lodgings with a wet rat Nile, congratulations.”

“Shut up, Nicky.” She gulps and seems like she’s genuinely considering reversing and tearing back down the street.

At least until a leggy woman saunters –don’t ask Nicky to try and find a more appropriate way to describe the sway of hip to shoulder ratio – out from behind the Brimnes shelving unit (named by the pulpy cardboard box sunk in the grass), catches sight of them pulling up and does that thing effortlessly cool people do where she sort of raises her chin in acknowledgement and then waits for them to make the effort to come to her.

“Let me guess, Nile.” Nicky says as she applies the handbrake a little too liberally too soon while she gawps at the dark-haired woman. “You saw her profile picture and didn’t care about whether they were sociopaths or not.”

Predictably, his best friend all but launches herself out of the car.

Which kind of proves Nicky’s point.

By the time he’s caught up with her, Nile has blown past the initial awkward introductions thankfully so Nicky has a name to put to the wet rat, Booker, and the suave woman, Andy.

“Copley gave us the keys this morning,” Andy is explaining to Nile, rummaging in her back pocket before producing a set for them both, “we’ve got to make sure that we keep it in the original condition, yada yada yada.”

The original condition being somewhat falling apart.

“Isn’t there meant to be another person?” Nicky asks.

Booker shrugs lopsidedly. “Yeah, Joe, he’ll show up whenever.”

Andy swipes the nearly empty bottle away from him and tips the last few inches down.

“Hey!” Booker grouches.

“You’ve had enough for now.”

Fair enough.

Nicky can’t help but ask, “Who builds a flat pack in the front garden?”

“Alcoholic idiots.” Andy offers as her only answer before nudging a foot into her friends side. “C’mon Book, I’m not doing this on my own.”

The blonde rallies with as much enthusiasm as one can when they stink of a brewery.

“I’m going to marry her.” Nile whispers dreamily as she walks backwards to the car, watching Andy lift the tail end of the unit while Booker stumbles on the lighter side, muscles in her biceps flexing as she carries it up the stairs.

“Lofty goals there.” Nicky grunts around picking out her suitcase from the boot and swearing he can hear the shift of her weights sliding about.

“Fine. I can be realistic.”

He waits for it.

“I’ll settle for going down on her.”

Nicky drops her stuff on the trampled grass and storms ahead in an attempt to outpace her bark of laughter.

\---

He likes his room, it’s the second smallest because Andy and Nile have already had a vigorous debate about who gets the appropriately sized space, only ending when Andy insists that she isn’t joking about a debilitating claustrophobia. It not an issue to Nicky, having grown up in a family bursting at the seams, the fact that he can shut the door and the area between all four walls is his to do with as he wishes for the next year is immensely pleasing in a way that he wasn’t anticipating.

The wallpaper is slightly peeling in the corners, a faded shade that probably explains why they got the place so cheap, and there's cigarette marks on the underside of the tiny desk crammed in front of the window. They're a street or two back from the main road dissecting Filton and Nicky can hear the rumble of buses flying by and the honking of impatient drivers as if he was standing at the edge of the pavement.

He quite likes it.

By the time he’s unpacked, folded everything away properly because his mother’s ingrained it in him to keep things presentable, and then put the sheets on his new bed, the house is starting to get loud.

Really _loud_.

As in he can already hear Nile making herself at home in the way she knows best, assimilating with those around her, and when it seems like those people are by the sounds of it slamming back shots of vodka then that’s precisely what she does. Nicky almost joins them, isn’t sure why he hesitates really, because this is one of the things he’s determined to participate in. Probably why he decided to come here in the first place, to follow Nile to the University of West England without many complaints, just so he has the welcome comforting weight that having a best friend bestows.

Well… maybe he had a _few_ complaints.

Nicky lasts until just gone seven before Nile comes to find him.

“We’re doing pizza and shots. Come on.”

“On the first night.” He jokes even while he’s sliding his bag under the bed and his resistance is crumbling.

“Damn straight. Andy’s going to give us all the advice we need to get through this year, and I for one, plan to soak up everything that goddess has to say.”

“You sound obsessed.”

“At least I’m getting out there, exploring new horizons and views, instead of creating a candle lit shrine for my virginity.”

Nicky curls all of the fingers except for one into the palm of his hand.

But, okay, here’s the thing. Her observations about his sex life, isn’t entirely inaccurate.

It’s not that he’s a novice in these things. Nicky’s had a boyfriend before, has gone on the kind of dates that are seen in the movies, complimentary dances included. It’s more that he’s spent his entire life in the same small town where the equality and diversity quota is entirely comprising of his gay ass and Nile’s family moving in five years ago.

“Come on.” Nile shoves at his arm. “I was thinking-”

“A dangerous undertaking for you.”

“Can it smartass. You’re not spending our first night in your room like an antisocial hermit.”

“Instead I need to come with you and get liver poisoning.” He teases.

“Precisely.”

When he inevitably lets her drag him along and slopes out into the tiny patch of dirt and straggly lawn that comprises their back garden, Nicky has made up his mind to stop overthinking things and accepts the lukewarm can of cider pressed into his hands.

\---

The first time he wakes it’s accidental.

He’s pulled out of sleep by a scratching sound coming from downstairs, and it might be scary, the idea of potential burglar, if he didn’t hear the chorus of giggling, (Nile), a muted _fuck,_ (Booker) and then the threats to _let me kick_ _the bloody door down already_ , (Andy).

Nicky is pretty sure that he left them safely in the garden, sitting on damp plastic chairs with a jug of something particularly potent because he knows his limits, and yet somehow, when he sticks his head out of the window, he’s greeted by a round of cheering.

“ _Nickeeeeey.”_ Nile sing songs, dragging his name out obnoxiously long as she bangs on the door. “Come let us in.”

In favour of not pissing off their new neighbours into filing a noise complaint (which he’ll shortly learn will _not_ be a problem) or having to call Copley on their first week to fix whatever damage he’s certain the trio are capable of, Nicky thuds down the stairs and makes sure to wait until all three are using the front door as a temporary crutch before swinging it open and enjoying the sight of them literally falling into the house.

He leaves them in their state of disarray, firmly places his desk chair underneath the doorknob when he hears Andy conspiratorially inform the other two that, _Nicky’s going to come out and join us_ , if it kills her.

Nicky falls asleep to the sound of their drunken escapades, a soft smile on his lips.

\---

When he officially wakes, for the second time and far too early, the sun’s still a thin hyphen across the skyline, the distant sound of cars beeping even now a consistent soundtrack that he’s already developing the ability to ignore.

His trek to make it to the kitchen for a much needed coffee is a minefield. Booker’s prone form is tucked into a ball at the top of the stairs, Nile wrapped in her bedsheets asleep with the lower half of her body propped up against the wall outside his room at an impossible angle and Andy’s slouched over the bathtub. There’s a bit of drool at the corner of her mouth that softens the sharp planes of her face and if it weren’t that Nicky is a little bit scared that she’ll knock him out, he’d be tempted to place a blanket or maybe large, fluffy towel over her.

The surprises keep on coming, because he’s confronted with a man crouched down unpacking a set of plastic Tupperware, and a pair of mixing bowls. If it weren’t for being incredibly disoriented by the time, lack of sleep and being confronted with an incredibly attractive stranger before he’s had the requisite caffeine to get through the interaction then Nicky could probably have made a better introduction than stumbling and catching his hip on the door handle with a sharp curse.

“Are you alright?” The stranger asks, straightens, and he’s got a couple of inches over Nicky that shouldn’t be nearly as interesting as it is.

“Yeah, all good. You’re Joe?” He works out around rubbing his side because that hurt way more than it should of.

Joe nods, smiles easily, like it’s never a struggle for him to achieve and holds out a hand. “And you’re…”

“Nicky.”

Joe’s hand is large, broad if he had to find a way to describe it, with deep slices running across his palm, heart and life lines like his sisters used to obsess over. Nicky takes it firmly, the way his father used to tell him to do, pumps it once and then finds himself thrown when Joe doesn’t immediately let go, skin warm like sunlight under Nicky’s fingers.

“How’d you get in?” He says, manages to carefully slip past Joe without doing something stupid like fall into him _accidentally_ , as he fills the kettle and flicks it on.

Joe returns to his unpacking, pulling out mismatched plates and odd bits of cutlery. “The door was ajar.”

It wasn’t when Nicky went to sleep the night before, he made sure of it. Which means that one of the drunken idiots opened it again in the night.

Ignoring that minor irritation, Nicky is kind of curious, in a strictly friendly manner, so while the water boils he takes what he feels are discrete, surreptitious glances at his new housemate.

He watches the skin of Joe’s neck ripple as he takes a drink from a bottle of fizzy water, the bob of his throat as he swallows. Entranced for a moment by the curve of his shoulders as he leans forward and stretches up to push back a baking tray, thinks absently how it would feel to place his hands over Joe’s belly and feel the play of muscle Nicky’s certain is there. Then he realises, with a strange, creeping heat rising up his neck and skimming the tips of his ears, that Joe is watching him back just as intently, smiling once more as if it’s a perfectly normal to him to be checked out for so long that Nicky can only think to describe it as a _protracted_ period.

The moment, and Nicky’s afraid to think that it _is_ a moment, is ruined by the familiar sound of retching floating down from the bathroom.

They both look upwards.

“Is that your friend or one of mine?” Joe asks.

The answer turns out to be a little bit of both when Nile almost breaks her neck as she bounces torso first down the last few stairs and flops to the ground with a punched-out _unf_.

Reassured by the shaky thumbs up she presents, Nicky then realises that apparently Andy isn’t one to be outdone, because she decides to do a near back-flip as she skips the last four steps, lands on her feet and then promptly collapses to the floor, head cradled in her hands and releases a wail that mostly resembles the undead.

There’s still retching upstairs.

“How’re you feeling?” Nicky tries not to sound too righteous at Nile's suffering.

“Right as fucking rain.” She whimpers when she tries to lift her head up to look at him.

Nicky gives her his mug.

“God, I love you.” She groans.

“If you’re not willing to share then you better finish that before I get over there.” Andy warns with much more menace than the teetering woman should be able to accomplish as she rocks, still crouched, on her heels.

Nile promptly drains it in one go and hiccups in victory.

When Nicky swivels around to make himself another coffee, he finds his hands suddenly full with a fresh drink, Joe winking and brushing against him as he passes when there’s plenty of space for him to get by without touching.

He _smells_ good.

Nicky’s only saving grace as he flushes again, cheeks hot, is that Joe moves on just as quickly carrying a pint glass of water that he insistently pushes into Andy’s hands, back turned to him.

Sometime between dragging Nile off of the floor, _I swear I’m going blind Nicky_ , and pairing up with Joe to haul Booker back into his room and dump him onto the unmade bed, Nicky glances over at the patient, quiet man and thinks that maybe this year might end up alright.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from X Ambassadors amazing _Hold you down_ :)


End file.
